You Saved Me
by pettygomi
Summary: Everything changed that day. After Grace had made her unplanned escape from an abusive household, she fell into the unwitting world of Narnia and into the arms of a certain prince. However, as the prophecy unravels, Grace finds herself stuck. Will she be able to adapt to this new life and fulfil what's expected of her, or will she have to make her second escape.


**A/N: Helooooo, stranger! This is my first fanfic and I really hope you like it. It is Edmund x OC and he should be popping up reaaaal soon.**

The night is the same as any other. Dark. Distant. Dense. Looking out the window, I see nothing but a starless sheet of tenebrosity. The world is so small; so predictable. The time on my pocket watch reads 11:27pm. I know that in precisely three minutes, my step-father, John, will be making his way up the stairs. Drunk, no doubt.

That means I have three minutes. Three minutes to myself. Three minutes to think. Three minutes until tonight repeats every other night.

11:28. Not long now. The same thoughts trace my mind as each night. Should I get away? Do I have time? Do I want to risk getting caught? These are questions I'm never able to answer.

11:29. The time ticks by tediously torpid, yet, all the while, too fast. My mind can't decide whether it would be better to prolong the time before or move quickly and get it over with. I guess tonight it wants to drag the minutes prior into agonising hours. Yet even that doesn't give me enough time to prepare.

It's almost as if I can hear the harsh ticking of passing time. Reminding me I'm stuck in a loop. Day after day. Night after night.

11:30. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ I'm uncertain as to whether that is drunken footsteps making their way to my room or the rough beating of my erratic heart.

"Grace," I hear his slurs, "I'm home."

I hear him getting closer. His clunky boots rattle against the rotting floorboards. Louder. And louder. And _louder_. For a brief second, they pause. There is silence. All except for my unsteadied pulse which I can hear coursing through my entire being. _Maybe he went straight to bed._

Suddenly, the handle of my door twists, causing an echoic screech. The door creaks open and the overwhelming stench of alcohol fills the room.

The world is so small; so predictable. And, just like that, the night is the same as any other.

I awoke alone, dirtied. I had no cover over me. Bare and violated, sprawled out haplessly on a sheet-less mattress. My body didn't feel my own. It had been taken from me; used for sick desires. I felt trapped inside my own flesh. An inescapable imprisonment of my mind.

Peeling myself from where I led, I rose. Sunlight rippled through the billowing curtains. Curtains that hid me from the rest of the world. Curtains that concealed the truth.

The acrid stench of impurity was ineluctable. Everywhere I went, I smelt it. It followed me. I knew I would never be pure. I had been used. Sullied. Had I ever been pure? Honestly, I couldn't remember what it felt like.

Over the years since my mother's death, I'd learned to bury my emotions. It sure was a hell of a lot easier than facing them. I just let things happen. I wouldn't, nor could I, stop them. I tried once. I have the scar to remind me.

However, England is just recovering from the second world war and everyone's emotions are running high. People everywhere are working tirelessly to rebuild our cities. Fortunately for some, my village was not hit. However, for me, evacuation would have been a god-send. I guess I'm not that lucky.

I sighed heavily and gathered my clothes, if you can call them that. They are old, tattered and way too small. The fabric brushes against my bare skin, making me shiver. I couldn't wait any longer to begin the day. Most people my age would be preparing for school, but I must stay home. I have chores to complete and I couldn't dawdle. He might check on me if I took too long.

The first task of the day is laundry. It's a tiresome task that hurts my arms but, after all this time, I am used to it. I gathered old underwear and made my way out the room. The hallway is a cold greeting against my bare legs, uncovered by my dress.

A loud obnoxious snore erupts suddenly from John's bedroom, startling me. _Thank god, he's still sleeping._ I creep into his room, silent as a mouse. Quickly, I pick up his clothes which are consumed by his foul odour and make a swift exit. But, for a second, I linger at the door, staring back at his fat, monstrous form, flopped against his bed, mouth agape, guttural sounds emanating from within. No words describe my hated of this pure loathsome man. There was a time he was kind. It was fake but a good enough lie to fool my mother. He was manipulative.

Shaking myself free of thoughts, I left and made my way down the creaky stairs. The silence was deafening. Almost unbearable. For to be left in silence meant to be left within one's own mind. I set the clothes aside and pulled out my mother's favourite record from the cabinet beneath the stairs. _Stormy Weather- Ethel Waters._

I set it on the player, listening carefully to the needle scratching against it as music effused outwards and into my ears. The tune was nostalgic and comforting. My mind flickered back to my mother, sat beside the fireplace, knitting, humming this song as she did. A tear brimmed at my eye, but I wouldn't let it fall. Not now.

 _Don't know why_

 _There's no sun up in the sky_

 _Stormy weather_

The tune carried out as I filled the bucket with warm, soapy water. I dipped the first item of clothing into it and began to scrub.

 _Life is bare_

 _Gloom and misery everywhere_

 _Stormy weather_

The bubbles seeped through my fingers as I cleansed the fabric draped against my hands. I squeezed them, watching them disappear.

 _All I do is pray_

 _The lord above will let me_

 _Walk in the sun once more_

A single tear slid down my face, falling into the water with a delicate splash.

 _Can't go on_

 _Everything I had is gone_

 _Stormy weather_

All of a sudden, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. I froze. Dead still. Completely silent. Barely breathing.

"Started already then, I see" he whispered gruffly in my ear, before leaving a kiss on my neck. His lips linger for a second.

I flinch and pull away from him. He doesn't stop me but his stare penetrates through me.

"Not now, okay," I say nervously, but firmly.

He laughs and takes a step closer, "Excuse me?"

I edge back, "I said, not now!"

His laugh disappears. He's aggravated, "You don't have a say. Who puts up with you? Who gives you a place to live? I do. I work. I put food on the table. I _own_ you."

He grabs my wrist, "No," I say.

Instinctively, I push him away. It wasn't rough. Nothing that could hurt him. After all, I am but a girl and he is a large man. But it was enough to make him stumble. Fury rises in his eyes just as fear rises in mine. I feel a harsh slap against my face.

I stumble to the floor, clutching my cheek. He's towering over me, rubbing his hands where he just struck me.

"You're going to regret that," he snarled.

I'm filled with dread. I hear the record scratch to a stop. Clumsily, I stagger to my feet and charge for the stairs. I hear him chuckle from behind me. He thinks I'm stupid. He knows I can't get away. And so do I. It's only a matter of time.

But I can't stop. I bolt for my door and slam it shut behind me, breathing heavily. I scan the room for any means of escape or at least something to defend myself.

"Grace!" he yells, "Get here this instant!"

I'm panting. My vision is hazy. But I can't let him get to me. Not after what happened last time. Suddenly, my eyes are caught on something; the window. The curtains are billowing. The window is open. I could jump. I knew it. But did I have the guts?

The world around me seemed to drain away and I walked to the ledge. I gently moved the curtains out the way and gazed into the world beyond. I was high up, but I couldn't be sure if the fall would kill me. I don't want to die. At least I don't think I do.

This could go one of three ways. I jump, I die. I jump, and get away. Or I stay here and face _him_. It's my decision, up to me and me alone. However, I knew one thing for certain, no matter what happened, jumping was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Maybe in death, I'll be free.

Shakily, I climbed upon my windowsill and sat facing inwards. My room was a place of misery. This house; even worse. The last think I saw was John, bursting through the door, enraged. And his shocked expression as I fell back into blackness.

 **AHHHH my first fanfiction! I really hope you guys like it. I'm open to accepting constructive criticism. Also, this is an Edmund x OC (Narnia) and although he or the rest of Narnia doesn't feature in this chapter, they will soon so keep reading! Please leave a comment and fav/follow the story. Alright, that's enough for now but I'll be updating as soon as possible. Byeeeeeee**


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